


Not letting up (until the day he died).

by Starhallow



Series: Bridgerton one-shots [1]
Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kate is an assasin, Morally Grey, Not Siena friendly, You know because of the entire assasin thing, tumblr prompt list
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starhallow/pseuds/Starhallow
Summary: Instead of looking for a wife, Anthony decides to enjoy one last season as a bachelor in 1813, so it's no surprise when his life turns out utterly different. When an unknown evil threatens not only Anthony but the rest of the Bridgertons he is forced to hire the services of a certain Miss Sharma. He may be treading into uncharted territory, but he is sure he will be in control of the situation.
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield, Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield |Kate Sharma
Series: Bridgerton one-shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170656
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	Not letting up (until the day he died).

**Author's Note:**

> So, I made a prompt list on Tumblr the other day (I'm still accepting requests even though I am slowly but surely working on the ones that I already have in my asks), and this is the first one that got requested.
> 
> Will there be a part two? Maybe. Who knows?
> 
> Here is the prompt list btw: [Prompt list](https://msstarhallow.tumblr.com/post/643309234388402176/prompt-list)

**Not letting up (until the day he died).**

****

* * *

Anthony Bridgerton had been – and still was – the Rake of the _ton_ , the most eligible bachelor, the man every Mama wanted her daughter to marry. He was, however, a practical man who was privy to the fact that he would die young, and he had believed the year 1813, at most nine years before his demise, to be the right one to finally find a wife and procreate. He had been ready to finally settle down, but one of those heartfelt conversations between his sisters just before the season officially started deterred him from doing so. Had it not been because he happened to overhear a conversation between Eloise and Daphne and the memories they had of the untimely death of their father Edmund he wouldn't have pushed his quest to find a Viscountess.

He had instead decided to shoot his last bolt, and take full advantage of his bachelorhood during the last season that none of his sisters would be out in. He had partied like a boy just out of Oxford, slept with more women than he could count with until he finally begun to regularly attend the opera again. All had been well, and he had rejoiced in the bliss that surrounded him.

Until the bizarre occurrences started.

It had all been innocent enough in the beginning, the papers on his desk would be moved when he returned to his office, or he would find a drawer open when he swore that he had locked it. There had been times when he had felt like somebody was watching him as he went about his day. When he had started to hear unusual sounds in the middle of the night, he had told his brothers that he believed his bachelor lodgings to be haunted one drunken night at White's after copious amounts of whiskey. The three of them had laughed at the notion.

Then, whatever was torturing in grew bolder, until he no longer felt save in his own home. He had been sure he was going mad, or that he would end up that way, so he started looking for another house to rent. The townhouse he had finally decided on was in a good neighbourhood, albeit, a little further away from the posher streets of Mayfair which allowed him to move his not-so-secret mistress in with him.

He had lived in relative peace for almost two years until the feeling of being watched returned. He ignored it. He cursed his paranoid mind and forced himself to reject the notion that anything paranormal was happening. He brushed off every warning. But then someone had followed Hyacinth on her way home and she had been too scared to leave the house in the following three weeks. Then Eloise had confided in him that a strange man had stalked her and Miss Featherington while they promenaded in Hyde Park one afternoon. It was then that Anthony understood that whatever wished to terrify him wasn't necessary occult, but part of the more rotten echelons of society.

Which brought him to his current position in the middle of the street. He didn't know what to expect when he alit in front of the house in Milner Street. It was one of those foggy winter nights in which one could barely see three paces before them. He had taken one of the older carriages, one with the family crest almost completely worn-out. He had been reluctant to go, to ask for the services of the immoral human who lived in the house that stood in front of him, but fate had forced his hand in the end.

He took a deep breath and climbed the few steps to the door before knocking thrice. The dark-haired butler opened the door and let him in before taking his card, which surprised Anthony but he decided not to question it. He was dressed in a sharp dark suit, and his crisp white collars had purple tulips embroidered on them.

"The Miss doesn't like it when we keep people outside, my Lord," he explained taking Anthony's card then. "If you could wait here". The butler gave him a small bow and disappeared. "Miss Sharma will see you now," he had said before he guided Anthony up the stairs when he appeared minutes later.

He was shown the way to the drawing-room where she was sitting, almost laying down, on a cream chaise. The room was, like the rest of the house he had had the chance to see, was far softer than what he had expected for someone in her line of work. The walls were panelled in whites and creams and a big chandelier in the middle of the room lit the space as if it were daylight. There were flowers everywhere, from soft pink tulips roses to dark purple tulips and white peonies. Anthony wondered where she got them all that time of year. The wall furthest from him was covered in paintings from top to bottom, from the very smallest of frames to the bigger pieces that took up most of the centre. Watercolours, he thought, although he couldn't be sure in that distance.

And in the middle of all of it, her. She was nothing like he remembered, not that he had been to enough parties and balls during her only season to know. He thanked the heavens for that because he doubted he would have been able to resist her had he been in closed quarters with her for months.

"The Viscount Bridgeton Miss," her butler said.

"Thank you, Barlow," she answered before looking at him. She was wearing an impossibly bright red gown that Anthony was sure would compel any man to his knees. Her hair was barely pulled up, nothing close to what he knew to be the fashions of high society. Then again, he doubted she had any care for those anymore. "Lord Bridgerton," she said with a little smirk, "I have been waiting for almost a full week now, I never thought you to be so rude".

Anthony swallowed the sudden need to apologise. "I am afraid I do not follow," he said instead.

She stood up and walked towards him. Her deep chocolate eyes danced in what he could only call mischievous mirth as she assessed him. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, "No, wait, more of a brandy man". His surprise must have been evident in his face, for she smirked and served two glasses from a bottle she kept in one of the end tables. She offered him a seat and set them both in front of him so he would choose.

He had heard of Kate Sharma, of course. She and her sister Edwina had both debuted that season he had decided to skip. If the rumours were true, and everyone chose to believe that they were, they had had no dowry, no male family relations and very few prospects. Her sister had been named a diamond of the first water and she had been chased and pursued by every male of the _ton_. Particularly, the French Duke of Monroth. Poor Edwina had, however, wanted a scholar, and her eyes had been set on a Mr Bagwell. The Duke hadn't been pleased.

The circumstances regarding the disappearance of said Duke had never been cleared, he was just gone one day. Anthony had heard about it from Colin, who had heard about it in his club. They had been fascinated by the mystery for about a month before every person who had previously been all too fond to exchange theories suddenly decided to stop talking about it.

Miss Edwina Sharma became Mrs Bagwell not even a three weeks later. Her dowry paid for their new house in Somerset where mother, daughter and son in law moved the following day.

Miss Kate Sharma bought the house they had been renting in Millner street soon after.

No French relatives arrived on British soil demanding answers, there was no police investigation. Desperate whispers in dark allies claimed that only two things were needed: a name in a piece of paper and payment within three days of the visit.

He took one of the two glass tumblers and pulled it to his side of the tea table and sat down, but didn't touch the drink. She took the other one and sipped. She leaned back against the back of the chaise and pursed her lips. She brought her left hand to her face and placed her middle finger under her lips whilst her index tapped her sharp cheekbone.

"My family is being threatened," he began.

"You have a piece of paper for me, then," she interrupted. So in addition to her already dark reputation, the woman had no manners, wonderful.

Anthony swallowed down, "No, I- I do not know-"

"You do not? Do I look like an investigator to you, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Had I had another choice I assure you I would not be here".

"Curious".

"Curious?" he asked more confused than he had been his first day in Oxford.

"Indeed, Lord Bridgerton, curious," she said, drinking from her glass again. "I should make you a deal".

"A deal?" he asked. She stood up and walked to the fireplace where she fiddled with a small wooden chest that she then threw into the roaring fire.

"A Life for a life," she said.

"Whose life?"

She opened a small piece of paper she had had between her hands and placed it in front of him so he could see.

"Yours".

There is was, plain as day, his name in a piece of paper. He looked up alert, and his eyes focused on his untouched tumbler of brandy.

"Do not fret, Lord Bridgerton," she giggled finishing her drink, "do you truly think you would be sat in my drawing-room had I wanted you taken care of?"

"Then why tell me?"

She shrugged and took a swing from his drink before leaning back once again. "Do you know how I got into my line of work?"

She was going to kill him. He knew she was. Why else tell him all of this? "I made a point not to ask".

"My sister and I joined the season together, but I believe you know that. Papa was a second son and he only had two daughters, so the little inheritance we could have had was instead given to some cousin or another. We knew my sister had the better chance of making a good match, I even believe your name, was mentioned at some point," she said pointing at him and playing with the amber liquid in his tumbler. "We had no money and no dowry and at some point, my sweet sister fell in love. I am the older of the two, and like you, there is little I would not do to protect my family".

"How do you know that?"

"The first word out of your mouth were concern regarding them, my Lord. I know a worried brother when I see one". He sat up straighter. "Alas," she proceeded with her tale, "I was too young to be a governess, too well-bred to be a maid, and I had no interest in becoming anyone's whore".

"So you decided that assassination would be your career of choice?" some unfiltered part of his brain asked.

"A job was requested and I delivered."

"And why would you spare me?" She stood up and walked to the chaise he was sitting on. She propped her knee on the soft cushions and sat on it. A maddening scent of lilies hit him, and suddenly that was the only thing he could focus on

"Boredom, maybe, " she said leaning against her bent arm. "No, not that. Loneliness, perhaps".She sighed. "The truth is that I have three rules Lord Bridgerton," she said stressing each of them with one of her agile fingers and slowly closing the distance between them, "I will kill almost anyone for the right amount of money. Never children. Definitely no dogs. And you, Lord Bridgerton, for all your bark look positively like a puppy".

Anthony drew a sharp breath and resisted the urge to pounce on her. "I want him gone," he said instead, "I shall pay triple what he gave you".

"Who do you want gone, Lord Bridgerton?" she asked, their noses almost touching, "the one who haunts you or the one who pays?"

"All of them".

"Consider it done".

* * *

A week later Anthony entered his Bridgerton house a new man. Hyacinth had finally decided to go out for a walk with him that morning, the constant sensation of being watched had disappeared a few days ago and he had just left Siena at the opera for her last show of the winter after they had shared best meal their cook had prepared hitherto. Their relationship had turned stale once again and he knew that the time to say goodbye forever was fast approaching, but he would allow himself to end their entanglement right the second time around.

He unlocked the door to his study and took his coat off before standing with his back to the fire to warm his lower back and legs. He brushed his wet curls away from his face with his fingers, he was due a visit with his barber. He would make time the following week, on Tuesday, perhaps, Tuesday was a good day to ...

That bottle hadn't been on the desk when he had left a few hours ago. He was sure of it. He would never leave his alcohol in the middle of his study in such away. He walked around the desk and stared at the bottle for what felt like hours, half expecting it to explode. It didn't. Neither did the fresh purple tulip bulb in front of it.

How she had managed to walk into his locked study he did not know, but the bottle of brandy was the same kind she had drank from in her house, and there had been an overabundance of flowers – and especially tulips – when he had been there. It had been her. Kate Sharma had been in his house.

He took the bottle in his hand and tilted it to look inside. It was full of some kind of leaves. He knew he should throw it away. He didn't know her, she had no loyalty to him and he had no reason to trust her. What had she called him? A puppy.

In the end, he decided it didn't matter. He never thought he would ever live to see his face at thirty-nine anyway, why would the last few years matter?

Anthony took a tumbler and uncorked the bottle. He was incredibly thirsty after all.

* * *

The hungover the next day was astronomical.

He had drank until he had finished the bloody bottle and for some stupid reason, Benedict had decided to shake him until he woke up.

"Will you let me sleep?" he groaned and toppled over his desk yearning for the sweet sweet sleep he had been awakened for.

"Oh, thank God," Benedict sighed.

"He is alive?" he heard Colin near the door, "Oh, thank God".

"What did you do, you fool?" Benedict accused and shook his older brother once again. "We understand that you would be upset, we really do Anthony, but trying to drown yourself in brandy is not the answer".

"What are you on about?" He was too tyred for riddles.

"Anthony, were you not at the opera last night?" Colin asked. Shit. He had forgotten.

"Shit!" he said jumping up, "I was supposed to collect Siena at the end of the night".

"Anthony," Benedict said.

"Now she will be angry and there will be screaming and the pounding in my head truly does not need that,"

"Anthony," Colin said.

"Will it be worse if I sleep here for a few hours, do you think?"

"Anthony, sit down". Benedict's eyes were harsh.

"What?"

Colin closed the door and sighed. "Someone from the opera came by this morning. Brother I-" he looked down.

"Benedict?"

"They found her in her dressing room. She had ordered kettle after kettle of tea that night and they were worried. Someone went fetch her when she had still to come out of it after several hours." Benedict rubbed his face. "Her heart gave out, Anthony".

"Siena is dead?"

Colin tapped his shoulder. "I am so sorry, brother".

* * *

He pounded on her door two days later. He had needed the first to nurse his hungover and set his head on straight, the second he had taken to make a list of the things he knew and the things he didn't.

Siena had spent the morning asleep and the afternoon in the same house as him.

They had dined together: beef stew and mushrooms.

He had gone to Bridgerton House and found a tainted bottle of brandy, (which he had drunk, but that was beside the point).

Siena's heart had given out.

Kate Sharma had poisoned them.

The butler opened the door and Anthony pushed him out of the way. He hastened up the stairs on his way to the drawing-room, that was even brighter in the daylight. She was perched atop a footstool that had been pushed against a window, painting on a canvas in front of her dressed in only a loose lavender robe that slithered up and her arms and legs whenever she moved.

"I couldn't stop him, Miss," the butler said, "I'm sorry, I shall show him out".

"No need Barlow," she said standing up, "bring some tea, would you?"

"Yes, ma'am".

"If you think I would ever drink anything you gave me..." Anthony started.

"Well, you obviously did".

"Meaning?" he asked. God, she was infuriating.

"You are alive," she noted pointing at him with both hands.

"After you poisoned me!"

"And provided you with the antidote!" she said imitating his tone.

"I thought we had a deal," he told her.

"We have a deal!" she said outraged.

"You poisoning me and my mistress was not part of that deal?"

"Was it not?" she sat on top of the chaise's back.

"No! I paid for the life person that haunted me and the one that paid them".

"Well yes, but I thought it in bad form to deliver that last one when I had just promised to spare you moments before".

"What?"

"Lord Bridgerton," she said strolling towards him, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and were you not about to cut ties with your mistress for the second time?"

"Siena?"

"Terrible manners to take part of the allowance you gave her to pay for the job if you ask me".

"How?" He smelt the lilies again.

"Now, Lord Bridgerton, you surely do not expect me to reveal all my secrets?"

"I have a feeling it was the mushrooms". They were once again nose to nose.

"I propose a new deal: I will do you a favour and tell you all about it if you do me a favour".

Her arms wrapped around his neck. "Kiss me".

And Anthony pounced.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was supposed to post something else today because I had promised I would post a 5+1 type fic that I kind of teased in a Tumblr post a couple of weeks ago. Then I had the idea to create a list of prompts because I wanted to get myself used to a two updates a week schedule while I make some progress on my new Kathony Modern AU (Aren't you all sick of me mentioning it?) and still post Ring Out The Bells. 
> 
> Anyway, after a long morning of classes, I decided to take the doggo for a walk and while I was listening to “Woman like me” by Little Mix, details for this fic kept entering my mind and I just HAD to work on it. Then, I scrapped my first idea because it was getting just too dark, and start over. And I did that again today and wrote this one-shot instead.
> 
> I'm also super happy because this is the first fic in which Kate's surname is “Sharma”. I may switch between both surnames while we know more about her character in the show. Now, if you want to discuss all things Kate and the casting and all that I have a post on Tumblr and my asks are always open over there. Just know that I am not going to allow any racist comments on my fics (I don't mean to be or sound aggressive I just want to drive my point across). I admit that I know absolutely nothing about South Asian cultures, so please excuse me if it's not represented in my fics while I educate myself and until I feel comfortable enough that level of education. I really hope I'm expressing myself correctly and I'm really sorry if I'm not.
> 
> English isn't my first language, so apologies if something isn't written right, I am happy to change it if anyone lets me know :) 
> 
> Tumblr:
> 
> [@msstarhallow](http://msstarhallow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Where I shitpost and rant and all that good stuff (I'm active again and I just love the Bridgerton community over there! It's also the most direct way to contact me (If you'd like to do that for some reason), so yeah)!  
>  Comments and feedback are always appreciated!!  
>  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanyway!  
>  Lots of love!


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